The following is an excerpt from part two:
We blend well as occupants of the same three-family building. We go down to play cards. She comes up to watch a movie. We both are forever cooking and sending samples up and down. For months, she broadcasts how pleased she is to have us as tenants. She has never had it so good. Sid clears the snow off her car after a storm. He brings out the trash and plows the driveway. He seals the windows and hangs her blinds. We repaint our four rooms and then proceed to do the stairway hall. We replace floor tiles and refinish cabinets. This is all at our own expense, and we are pleased to contribute.
When Helen is away, Sid attends to her dog. It is a monstrous Shar-pei-Pit Bull mix. Helen calls him “Puppy.” Helen has a strict no-pet policy. We are unable to have our Ring-necked Dove. When we went to prison, my sister took him in for us. Now we visit the bird on weekends. We have discussed having our bird but Helen will not budge. “If the other tenants find out, they’ll all want pets.” (We do not even associate with the guy who finally rented the first floor, other than to say hi in passing.) We have been warned, “Don’t even think about having a fish.” No pets means no pets. It has nothing to do with the rationale of it. It has to do with I want my way.
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Judge Judy
The following is an excerpt from part two:
I am not a big fan of television. Occasionally I enjoy Judge Judy. She is such a wonderfully sensible and animated character. Saturday Night Live pales in wit. The highlight of each show is to observe Judy get worked up and then watch the litigants become aggravated. It amazes me how people can be so persistently single-minded when it comes to getting their way. That theme is consistent on all the “judge” shows.
I can appreciate devoted commitment to a cause. Determination to defend a position is admirable. The antics on Judge Judy, however, are nothing short of laughable. Regard for the law or consideration of common sense frequently have no influence on the litigants’ reasoning ability. All that matters is I want my way.
The opponents become like slot players mesmerized and held captive by their machine. The reality for both gambler and litigant is that they do not hold all the cards. Unwavering purpose will not override the law of averages or the laws of the state.
We were fortunate to rent an apartment from a friend. If not for Helen, we may well have been homeless after our discharge from prison. That is the circumstance for many convicted sex offenders who are released and forced into a hostile society. We have known Helen for ten years. She and I worked at the same upscale nursing home, on different shifts. Our relationship developed outside of work mostly as camping friends.
I am not a big fan of television. Occasionally I enjoy Judge Judy. She is such a wonderfully sensible and animated character. Saturday Night Live pales in wit. The highlight of each show is to observe Judy get worked up and then watch the litigants become aggravated. It amazes me how people can be so persistently single-minded when it comes to getting their way. That theme is consistent on all the “judge” shows.
I can appreciate devoted commitment to a cause. Determination to defend a position is admirable. The antics on Judge Judy, however, are nothing short of laughable. Regard for the law or consideration of common sense frequently have no influence on the litigants’ reasoning ability. All that matters is I want my way.
The opponents become like slot players mesmerized and held captive by their machine. The reality for both gambler and litigant is that they do not hold all the cards. Unwavering purpose will not override the law of averages or the laws of the state.
We were fortunate to rent an apartment from a friend. If not for Helen, we may well have been homeless after our discharge from prison. That is the circumstance for many convicted sex offenders who are released and forced into a hostile society. We have known Helen for ten years. She and I worked at the same upscale nursing home, on different shifts. Our relationship developed outside of work mostly as camping friends.
Thursday, June 16, 2011
“I never said any such thing.”
The following is an excerpt from part one:
A couple of weeks before our Superior Court trial in November, we had a Family Court hearing. Sid’s lawyer for that process is a caring man, motivated by integrity. When he learns of Sid’s ongoing neglect in prison, and that we are receiving no treatment whatsoever following the attack in June, he contacts the warden’s office immediately. Two days later, I go to the hospital for hip x-rays and panoramic teeth x-rays.
The staff doctor is a woman, from India. She is the same one who first “examined” me after the attack. She says they will be looking into physical therapy for me. I tell her that four months ago she told me that no form of treatment would be available. “I never said any such thing.” Sid has his panoramic mouth x-ray done as well. The dentist observes, “You did a good job with the extraction.” Two days before our Superior Court trial was to begin there was another Family Court hearing. Sid was not in attendance. I told the lawyer that his seg term was set for fifteen days and that it has already been seventeen.
Sid is finally released from seg the day before of our trial was to materialize on November 6, 2008. We are dredged through the muddle of court-day routine, and are thrown into the caverns to await the long awaited proceedings. It would turn out to be a far greater farce than even the preceding nine months had to offer.
A couple of weeks before our Superior Court trial in November, we had a Family Court hearing. Sid’s lawyer for that process is a caring man, motivated by integrity. When he learns of Sid’s ongoing neglect in prison, and that we are receiving no treatment whatsoever following the attack in June, he contacts the warden’s office immediately. Two days later, I go to the hospital for hip x-rays and panoramic teeth x-rays.
The staff doctor is a woman, from India. She is the same one who first “examined” me after the attack. She says they will be looking into physical therapy for me. I tell her that four months ago she told me that no form of treatment would be available. “I never said any such thing.” Sid has his panoramic mouth x-ray done as well. The dentist observes, “You did a good job with the extraction.” Two days before our Superior Court trial was to begin there was another Family Court hearing. Sid was not in attendance. I told the lawyer that his seg term was set for fifteen days and that it has already been seventeen.
Sid is finally released from seg the day before of our trial was to materialize on November 6, 2008. We are dredged through the muddle of court-day routine, and are thrown into the caverns to await the long awaited proceedings. It would turn out to be a far greater farce than even the preceding nine months had to offer.
Monday, June 6, 2011
James, not Jim
The following is an excerpt from part one:
This time Sid is coupled with a suspected murderer. James, not Jim, is bi-polar. He is also diagnosed with OCD, obsessive compulsive disorder. James has unpredictable temper fl are-ups and engages in unusual behaviors. He picks the tiny lint-balls from the sheet and blanket, and there are plenty of them. Then he proceeds to the floor to retrieve microscopic specks with his fingertips for hours on end.
James is on medication but he does not know what or why, other than for the sleeping pills. He was removed from the meds he was taking for the bipolar condition. Whatever they put him on had destroyed his liver. As is usually the case, Sid gets along fine. That adds fuel to the C/O’s fi re of retribution. On a couple of occasions, James nearly loses it over absolutely nothing. Sid manages to talk some sense into him. “James, this is exactly what those assholes want: for us to turn on each other. This is how you got yourself in seg to begin with. Stop it.” Sid knows, as a matter of psychic perception, that his “killer” companion is innocent of the murder for which he is to be tried. The poor guy has been in for three years awaiting trial. One day Sid tells him to “dump the pills.”
“What are you talking about?” Sid tells him that suicide is not the answer. James has been saving up some of his medication whenever he can get away with it. Two of his biological brothers and his sister were adopted after a tragic family misfortune. They all killed themselves. Sid reveals that he already knows about it. He also discloses the liver problem. James is shocked but loosens up a lot. They build trust and Sid becomes very close with him.
This time Sid is coupled with a suspected murderer. James, not Jim, is bi-polar. He is also diagnosed with OCD, obsessive compulsive disorder. James has unpredictable temper fl are-ups and engages in unusual behaviors. He picks the tiny lint-balls from the sheet and blanket, and there are plenty of them. Then he proceeds to the floor to retrieve microscopic specks with his fingertips for hours on end.
James is on medication but he does not know what or why, other than for the sleeping pills. He was removed from the meds he was taking for the bipolar condition. Whatever they put him on had destroyed his liver. As is usually the case, Sid gets along fine. That adds fuel to the C/O’s fi re of retribution. On a couple of occasions, James nearly loses it over absolutely nothing. Sid manages to talk some sense into him. “James, this is exactly what those assholes want: for us to turn on each other. This is how you got yourself in seg to begin with. Stop it.” Sid knows, as a matter of psychic perception, that his “killer” companion is innocent of the murder for which he is to be tried. The poor guy has been in for three years awaiting trial. One day Sid tells him to “dump the pills.”
“What are you talking about?” Sid tells him that suicide is not the answer. James has been saving up some of his medication whenever he can get away with it. Two of his biological brothers and his sister were adopted after a tragic family misfortune. They all killed themselves. Sid reveals that he already knows about it. He also discloses the liver problem. James is shocked but loosens up a lot. They build trust and Sid becomes very close with him.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
"You’re not goin’ anywhere"
The following is an excerpt from part one:
Sid does not eat the food because he knows they are spitting in it. He asks for pain meds repeatedly but the C/Os just laugh. When he asks for toilet paper, they laugh. The brown lunch bags that “meals” are delivered in, or the waxed cereal pouches, are his toilet tissue. Before the bags start coming he needs to clean up with fingers, there being no other choice. He has to splash water from inside the toilet. There is no soap. There is no towel. There is no warm water. There is nothing but degradation and mistreatment. That is the way of suicide watch. Its purpose is to inflict more punishment than even solitary confinement has to offer. This is the big opportunity to Hate! Punish! Destroy! The C/Os relish it. They ridicule, chuckle, and savor the harassment. Theirs is the sort of job that typifies “if you could do anything without being concerned whether or not you were paid, what would it be?”
After twenty-four hours, the equivalent of twenty-four millennia, Sid is dragged out for an evaluation with another prison psychiatrist, an elderly man who listens and responds compassionately. The C/Os stand by, joking and mocking. The doctor is not authorized to prescribe medication. He plans to recommend that Sid be removed from suicide watch and from seg altogether. He tells the C/Os that Sid does not belong there and that he has not been allowed to take a shower in nearly a week. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, you old fuckin’ fuck.”
They tow Sid back to his suicide watch trench and provide him with a navy blue suit, garb of the general population. He sits on the floor all day, in meditation position. He is retrieved by Rosie, the ISC slut. She demands that he change into the orange jumpsuit because he is “not goin’ anywhere.” She leads him down the hall toward his assigned cell in the seg unit. They pass the elderly psychiatrist who is now in conversation with another inmate. The man spots Sid approaching and looks down at the floor, avoiding eye contact. Sid pauses for a moment, assuring him, “Don’t worry about it, I understand.”
Sid does not eat the food because he knows they are spitting in it. He asks for pain meds repeatedly but the C/Os just laugh. When he asks for toilet paper, they laugh. The brown lunch bags that “meals” are delivered in, or the waxed cereal pouches, are his toilet tissue. Before the bags start coming he needs to clean up with fingers, there being no other choice. He has to splash water from inside the toilet. There is no soap. There is no towel. There is no warm water. There is nothing but degradation and mistreatment. That is the way of suicide watch. Its purpose is to inflict more punishment than even solitary confinement has to offer. This is the big opportunity to Hate! Punish! Destroy! The C/Os relish it. They ridicule, chuckle, and savor the harassment. Theirs is the sort of job that typifies “if you could do anything without being concerned whether or not you were paid, what would it be?”
After twenty-four hours, the equivalent of twenty-four millennia, Sid is dragged out for an evaluation with another prison psychiatrist, an elderly man who listens and responds compassionately. The C/Os stand by, joking and mocking. The doctor is not authorized to prescribe medication. He plans to recommend that Sid be removed from suicide watch and from seg altogether. He tells the C/Os that Sid does not belong there and that he has not been allowed to take a shower in nearly a week. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, you old fuckin’ fuck.”
They tow Sid back to his suicide watch trench and provide him with a navy blue suit, garb of the general population. He sits on the floor all day, in meditation position. He is retrieved by Rosie, the ISC slut. She demands that he change into the orange jumpsuit because he is “not goin’ anywhere.” She leads him down the hall toward his assigned cell in the seg unit. They pass the elderly psychiatrist who is now in conversation with another inmate. The man spots Sid approaching and looks down at the floor, avoiding eye contact. Sid pauses for a moment, assuring him, “Don’t worry about it, I understand.”
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